A Tough Report
by tranquil light
Summary: Chapter Four; Post-Hogwarts. Hermione Granger, now a writer for the Daily Prophet, finds herself with a rather tough report to write when she meets Oliver Wood and Draco Malfoy, all grown up and the focus of her new report. R&R!
1. A New Life

**Author's Note:** I know what you're thinking. "_She's starting a NEW fic even though she has yet to update Stung by a Billywig, Oliver Wood: More Than Just Looks, Obsessions, and, most importantly, The 7th Year in Hogwarts: Oliver and Hermione?! What is she, CRAZY?!_" Well, you're just about correct. But I had a sudden inspiration of a fic, that I could not just put it off for long. This does not mean I won't be working on the other fics. On the contrary, it means I'll be working on _all _the fics twice as hard. I hope to update each fic at least once a week, if not, then once every two weeks. If not that, then at least once a year (I'm just kidding). But, enjoy this new fic, a love triangle between Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, and Oliver Wood (*drools*)!   
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters or the settings. This magical world is property of J.K. Rowling, with her incredible mind. I just own the plot!  
  
**Chapter One - A New Life  
  
**"_There must be another way, 'cause I believe in taking chances.  
But who am I to say, what a girl is to do, God I need some answers.  
What am I to do with my life? You will find out, don't worry.  
How am I supposed to know what's right? You just gotta do it your way.  
I can't help the way I feel, but my life has been so overprotected._"  
- "Overprotected" by Britney Spears  
  
  
The clanking of a small bell alerted the many witches' and wizards' of _The Leaky Cauldron_ that yet another person who was able to do the magical arts was entering the small but thoroughly enjoyable pub. A fairly tall witch, with slightly bushy brown hair that fell down to her shoulders and almond-shaped brown eyes had stepped into the pub, but judging by the quick ruffling and shuffling of her robes, it appeared as though she was in a hurry. A stack of quills, parchment, and portfolios were stacked in her hands, but she managed to be able to look and walk around with ease despite the heavy load.   
  
Her name was Hermione Granger, which was perfectly noticeable by the nametag attached to her robes. She looked fairly important, and she glanced at her watch before she bit on her bottom lip nervously. Approaching the barman, she put her large stack of necessities on the counter, smiling quickly before saying, "Just a jug of Butterbeer, please, Tom; I'm sort of in a hurry, and I really don't want Shirley to be angry."   
  
"Perfectly understandable, Miss Granger," the barman, Tom, replied; he reached underneath the bar and pulled out a fairly large jug, the next second, Butterbeer appeared, fill to the brim. "You've always been addicted to Butterbeer, haven't you?" he asked her, a small smile on his face.   
  
"It's a little hard not to!" Hermione exclaimed, putting down two sickles to pay. Raising the glass, she said a small, "Cheers", before she swallowed it all in two gulps. Setting the jug back down, she smiled yet again, and gathered the stack in her arms once more. "Delicious ... this will definitely keep me energized for the day ahead. See you later, Tom!"  
  
Without waiting for a reply, Hermione headed out of the exit into the oh-so-familiar small, walled courtyard, with the familiar weeds that continued to grow, and the same dustbin propped up against the wall. Absentmindedly, Hermione took out her wand, dragging it up three bricks, and two bricks across above the dustbin. She tapped the wall three times with the point of her wand, and immediately the wall wriggled in the middle, making a small hole appear that grew wider and wider until she was in Diagon Alley, which she considered her second home.   
  
As soon as she stepped through the arch, seeing the familiar shops that she passed by every day (except for the weekend, which she had off), the brick wall had returned to its original state, and Hermione bustled through the crowd of witches and wizards that had already assembled throughout the cobbled streets. She passed by the cauldron shop, an apothecary shop, the owl emporium, as well as a broomstick shop, shops selling robes, telescopes, and intriguing silver instruments. Eventually, she reached a rather tall building, about four or five stories high. More down the street were several more shops, as well as the Gringotts bank in the distance.   
  
Stepping up towards the main entrance of the building, she smiled when she saw the sign perched above the doorway - a globe, where it was written _Daily Prophet_ on the upper arch, and below the globe, was written _Future Fates Foretold_. A small brown owl was sitting on the sign. As she did almost every single day for the past four months, she placed her right hand (her wand hand) on one of the two glass doors which were the main entrance. There was a small humming noise, as though the doors were detecting her fingerprints, and ultimately, her identity, and with a small click of the doors and a tiny hoot from the owl, Hermione entered the building.   
  
Although it was no Ministry of Magic, just the main floor was completely stunning. Pictures were lined along the hallway walls, full of different witches and wizards who had been previous editors of the _Daily Prophet_. To the right of the main entrance was a desk, where a small plump witch with graying hair sat, scribbling something away on a piece of parchment. Walking up to her, Hermione tapped gently on the parchment the women was writing on to alert her attention, then said, "Hermione Granger, journalist, third floor, specializing in affairs of the Ministry of Magic."  
  
The small plump witch took a stamp, then rustled through several papers on her desk until she reached a very long piece of parchment containing the list of all the employees of the _Daily Prophet_. Reaching the G's, the old woman stamped down hard on 'Monday, June 15th', right beside, 'Granger, Hermione'. Looking up, the witch complimented with, "Perfect attendance for the past four months, Miss Granger. Quite an accomplishment for a new journalist. Have a nice day!"   
  
Hermione grinned back in response. It wasn't that hard to have a perfect attendance, Hermione had realized, as she approached what seemed to be a hovering elevator. She was so passionate about writing, that it was hard to have an actual life outside of it. Walking inside of the hovering elevator, she quickly pressed a button labeled with '3', but not until several other reporters and journalists walked in as well. Hermione greeted some of them, although some of them had obviously not taken the time to recognize her face; instead, they chose to glance as the elevator began to hover upwards.  
  
Reaching the first floor above the main floor, a cool female voice, much like the one inside the Ministry of Magic (which Hermione visited at least once a week) called out, "The floor for entertainment, specializing in social events between witches and wizards, including music, fashion, and the entire Quidditch department." At this, three-quarters of the people in the elevator had gone. Hermione sighed. It was the most popular department, and Hermione could easily see why, seeing as though wizards and witches were now completely fascinated in entertainment now that Voldemort had officially vanished; however, she was more interested in politics, and seeing what the Ministry of Magic was up to nowadays.   
  
When it had reached the second floor, the same cool female voice rung out, "The floor specializing in store advertisements, classifieds, personal advertisements, and other main events needed for advertisement." At this, three more witches and wizards left, leaving Hermione alone with seven other employees. She smiled nervously at five of them; they worked on the fourth floor, which belonged to the editor and all of the other special employees associated with the newspaper. She smiled quite warmly at two other witches, who returned the smile.   
  
The elevator had now reached the third floor, and once it had stopped hovering Hermione exited with the two other witches she had smiled at, hearing the cool female's voice say, "The floor regarding in the Ministry of Magic, its employees, the events going on, and the politics surrounding it." Once Hermione was sure that they were far out of earshot from the wizards and witches inside the hovering elevator, she turned towards the two witches and smiled excitedly. "Agnes! Clara!" Hermione greeted, smiling.  
  
"Ah, Hermione," Agnes replied. She had long, flowing blonde hair, and wise green eyes that stood out against her pale face. She, too, had a stack of parchment, quills, and portfolios in her arms. "Good thinking about not saying thing in the elevator. We have to be _professionals_ while in the presence of _them_."   
  
Hermione felt like chuckling, but looking around at their surroundings, she felt it was better not to. All around them were hundreds of cubicles. In the very center of the large room was a large, circular desk with several important witches and wizards sending off memos. Towards the right of the room were the bathrooms and other refreshments, and along the left wall were several issues of the _Daily Prophet_. Hermione could make out the issue where Cornelius Fudge had admitted that Voldemort was actually at large, which was four years ago. Hermione couldn't believe so much time had passed.   
  
"Anyways, I say we have a cup of some of energizing Butterbeer before we crack down to it," Clara said with a smile. She was always the humorous one, and Hermione sometimes wondered why she wasn't down at the floor with entertainment. She had curly red hair and bright blue eyes, and was quite short for her age. Hermione nodded in agreement, and they headed towards the right section of the floor, pouring themselves a mug of Butterbeer. It wasn't as good as the ones that Tom provided at _The Leaky Cauldron_, but Hermione figured it was because of the potion contained inside, which guaranteed that you would have energy for at least the next five hours.   
  
Once they had polished off their mugs of Butterbeer, they all headed in separate directions towards their cubicles, promising each other to send memos at least once an hour to make sure how they were all holding up. Hermione smiled with happiness; most of the time when she had entered new situations (such as her first year of Hogwarts), she would always be shy and it would take her some time to make some friends. But with Clara and Agnes, she clicked instantly and although they had only known each other for four months, they seemed to connect and respect each others' ideas.   
  
Setting off towards the left side of the room, Hermione settled down at a cubicle which had a wonderful view - unlike most of the cubicles, hers had a window where the sunlight was shining through. Sitting down in a wooden chair that didn't creak when she sat down in it, she set down her quills, parchment, and portfolios on a desk and looked around at the walls surrounding her. Posted all over the walls were letters, photographs, and newspaper articles. The most noticeable object was a photograph hanging directly above her desk. In this picture were eight grinning people - Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred and George, Ginny, and herself standing in front of the Burrow. It was taken during Hermione's sixth year of Hogwarts, and although Hermione had far more recent pictures of all her friends, this one seemed to be memorable.   
  
Along the walls of her cubicle were other traces of her friends; one _Daily Prophet_ article depicted the success of Fred and George's joke shop; another congratulated the success of Harry and Ron, both becoming Aurors; yet another article showed an interview with Ron, with him displaying his love for Wizards' Chess. These reminders helped Hermione get through the day, and remember all about her past; ever since she graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, everything seemed to breeze by. While Harry and Ron went off to an official school for Auror training when summer was over after their graduation from Hogwarts, Hermione went off to the Official Journalism Academy for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and after reaching the top of the class within two years, she had finally managed to become a journalist for the _Daily Prophet_.   
  
For her, it was quite an accomplishment, and even her Muggle parents were quite proud; Harry and Ron showed their support as well whenever they managed to see her in the Ministry of Magic building, even though they secretly wished she would write about Quidditch. Although she was quite confused about her future career after Hogwarts when she was still attending it, she was now certain that she was doing something she loved most ... her second pick would either not be working at all and just being with her beloved friends, or being a professor at Hogwarts (although that meant seeing Snape's face for the long years that she worked there).  
  
After looking around the walls for a few minutes, she turned her attention to the portfolios on her desk - in them contained biographies on almost every single employee at the Ministry of Magic, as well as the latest councils held in the Ministry of Magic. It was Hermione's job to figure out all the secrets inside the Ministry, and write articles about what had happened lately.  
  
Once she had flipped through some of the portfolios, a memo in the shape of a flying airplane (again, much like the ones inside the Ministry of Magic), flew down beside here. Reaching for it, she saw it was a memo from Shirley, the one who ran all that happened on the third floor. "_Hermione_," (it read), "_make sure that you write an article about the latest council that took place about the newest precautions to make sure Muggles do not find out about wizards. Due at the end of today, four o' clock. Keep up the fantastic work!_" Smiling softly at Shirley's words of encouragement, she swiftly pulled out a piece of parchment and glanced at her portfolio quickly before she picked up a quill and began to scribble down words that fit in with the topic assigned.  
  
Over an hour later, and with several pieces of scrunched-up parchment on the floor, Hermione was left with two satisfying paragraphs, although she knew she had to add much more in order to satisfy both Shirley and the readers of the _Daily Prophet_. No sooner than she had thought up another paragraph, a second memo came flying down.  
  
"_Hey girl, how you holding up?_" Immediately, Hermione could tell it was Clara. She continued to read the note with ease. "_Some of the 'top executives' are chatting about some of the workers on the third floor working on something new! Almost like a promotion or something! I don't know about you, but I'm getting excited just at the thought of it. What do you think it's about?_"  
  
Hermione was just as puzzled as she was, and also a little jealous. Clara's cubicle was right next to the center desk, where most of the 'top executives' discussed what was going on. Hermione was just glad she had someone to feed it all to her. A third memo flew down on her desk, just barely five minutes later, although this time it was from Agnes.  
  
"_I got the note from Clara,_" it read. "_According to her, they're starting to call people down to discuss their little promotions! Good luck to you, 'Mione!_"  
  
At this note, Hermione set down her quill. She was too excited to even write. Hermione wasn't exactly sure what these top executives were planning, but if it was indeed a promotion, or at least a shot at something new, Hermione was sure ready to go for it. Several more memos arrived within the next five minutes, usually little updates on what was going on from Clara. From the fifth one was quite a surprise. It read, "_Hermione Granger, please report to Shirley Jones' office for an important meeting._"   
  
She struggled to get up, but her legs seem to grow very heavy, and it took her a great deal of strength. She made sure everything was in order on her desk, then rose from her cubicle. Peering around, she noticed that she never really got a look around. Several cubicles were empty, but she could see Clara and Agnes sitting at their desks, looking around in excitement. Spotting her standing up, they gave her the thumb's up, and she smiled back in return, beginning to walk through the different rows towards the very front of the room, where Shirley's office was. With a twist of a knob, Hermione entered the room, seeing seven others that also worked on her floor assembled around a large table, with Shirley at the front. _I wonder what all this is about_.  
  
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**Author's Note: **Yes, I know, CLIFFHANGER! _Please_ don't kill me! I promise to you I'll have the second chapter up by around Wednesday or so, 'cause I've actually got a pretty basic idea of where the first four chapters are going. After that, well ... we'll see. I'd really appreciate _ANY_ comments/compliments/suggestions, and err ... constructive criticism, if you have any. *shudders* Please no major complaints, burns, or flames ... all of those will be used so I can have some crispy toast, although I will also be quite depressed.  
  
Stay tuned for chapter two, and **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**


	2. A New Assignment

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews! Really appreciative of them, that's for sure!  
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters or the settings. This magical world is property of J.K. Rowling, with her incredible mind. I just own the plot!  
  
**Chapter Two - A New Assignment  
  
**"_You see that there are a bunch of flat tires before us, but why not hitting the accelerate pedal to move forward?  
Aren't you contradicting yourself?  
Oh baby, wait and see; Of course, the pain is always there but that's not too bad  
And the risks that you are scared of gives us a meaning in believing, you know?_"  
- Translated lyrics of "Wait and See" by Utada Hikaru  
  
Hermione felt like she was entering _The Leaky Cauldron_ all over again, except this time there was no clanking of a bell as she entered through the doorway, and this time, all the witches and wizards were looking professional and alert; Hermione noticed that most of them looked confused about the current situation. Smiling briefly at Shirley, she sat down at the eighth and last chair, turning to Shirley to hopefully find some explanation for all of this.  
  
"I have assembled you all here this morning," Shirley began, putting a delicate piece of black hair behind her ear, "because I feel that you journalists are the best of the best on this floor. You've proved your remarkable writing talents throughout the past few months, and I really feel that you need some reward for it." Hermione fidgeted in her seat. What _was _this all about?  
  
"And because of your excellency in journalism," Shirley continued, her eyes drifting towards every writer seated, "I feel that it's necessary that you try out something new, and see if your journalism can soar above the heavens. An opportunity like this is rare, and I feel that you all deserve being included in it."  
  
Twiddling her thumbs underneath the desk, Hermione secretly wished that Shirley would get to the point -- Shirley was an excellent journalist herself, but chose to express herself verbally rather than on parchment. "This is why I feel that for the next two months, you all should be given a new position. A position quite different from the one you hold now. This is both a challenge and a change to expand your horizons, and your writing capabilities. You will all ... be working on a different floor."  
  
The professionalism that was contained in every one of the journalists vanished. They all gasped softly, then looked around at each other, shrugging with confusion. Hermione, too, released a gasp, since the third floor in the building was practically where she lived. Shirley eyed them all in silence, a small smile placed on her lips, before she rose her head and the whole room was in silence once more.  
  
"You will all be writing several reports based on what your position will be," Shirley explained. "I suspect that most of you will enjoy this, while some will be most willing to return to their current position. However, I feel you should all be ready for what's heading your way, and that none of you will misbehave, considering all the thoughts I have for you." She gave each one of them a small glance, finally resting her eyes on Hermione. Hermione gulped silently, wishing that Shirley would fix her gaze upon another unsuspecting journalist who had no idea what she meant, but Shirley's gaze was fixed on Hermione as she continued.  
  
"Now ... judging by the looks on some of your faces, you're probably rather confused by this sudden announcement," she continued, her eyes still fixed upon Hermione. "And I don't really see how I can thoroughly explain this even more. So, in order to fully make sure that you understand what's going on, does anybody have any questions?"  
  
Hands immediately rose up in the air. Hermione was a little hesitant, but seeing as though everybody else had their hands up, she also stuck her arm upwards. Shirley smiled softly, an amused look on her face. "All right, all right," Shirley said, putting her hands up in the air as though a sign she was defeated. "Lauren Smith, what's your question?"  
  
A woman who looked the age of twenty-five with curly red hair and spectacles that made her eyes look three times their original size lowered her arm as she was being addressed. Hermione recognized the name immediately - Lauren had written the scandalous article about the love affairs that Cornelius Fudge supposedly had. "Can the new position you give us be permanent if we choose?" Lauren asked, playing with a piece of her curly hair.  
  
Shirley nodded. "If you feel that you perform exceedingly well in the new position given to you and you want to try it out for a longer period of time, or permanently, of course you may do so," she answered. "Jared Carter, what's on your mind?"  
  
A quite handsome man who looked about his early twenties also lowered his arm once he was addressed. He had short blonde hair and green eyes hidden under square-shaped rims. "I ... I was just wondering if these two months would go without pay?" he inquired, with a small chuckle. The rest of the people assembled at the table laughed, and although Hermione also released a giggle or two, she also wondered the same thing.  
  
Laughing, Shirley shook her head. "You will be paid your regular salary ... with a slight raise as well for doing this," she answered. Hermione released a small sigh of content; a raise meant that she would be able to pay her rent for her London apartment and spend money on some other things as well. "Christian Crusoe, what would you like to ask?"  
  
A man in about his late thirties smiled as Shirley addressed him. His brown hair was graying slightly, but his face looked fresh and youthful. Hermione recognized his name to be the reporter who had written the controversial article about the issue of wizards and half-giants. It was an article that finally made Hagrid have some respect, Hermione remembered.  
  
"Will we have to engage in this opportunity?" he asked. "It's just that I feel more comfortable writing -"  
  
"Ah, Christian," Shirley interrupted, although she laughed softly with amusement. "Please do not feel hesitant. I know that some of you may not want to do this at all, which is why I have established certain things. You will _have_ to be in this new position for at _least_ two weeks. During those two weeks, you will be sending me an owl at the end of each day, reporting how you like the new position, and what new things you have learned. After two weeks, you may choose whether or not you want to continue onto the two months, and afterwards, for the rest of the time your writing at the _Daily Prophet_. The first two weeks will give a basic idea of what the job is like, and it should clearly show how you're able to handle it. Is that all right, Christian? Two weeks of suffering?"  
  
Christian chuckled weakly in response, but nodded quite confidently.  
  
"Good," Shirley said, winking playfully at him to try and give him confidence. Twisting her head, she eyed another person with their arm up. "Melody Stringham, what's on your mind?"  
  
A dark-tanned woman of about thirty smiled politely as she lowered her arm. Her hair was in braids, that slightly covered her face. "Will this new position mean that we will be doing something else rather than just writing articles?" At this question, everyone else that had their arm up dropped their arms to their side, except for Hermione. She had one question on her mind, although she wasn't quite sure if Shirley would be able to answer it.  
  
Shirley smiled thoughtfully and nodded. "Some of the new positions you will be receiving will mean that you will also have to take on the role of an interviewer before you are able to write your article. You will all be having new bosses for these next two months, unless, of course, you decide to come back after two weeks -" she smiled softly at Christian at this comment, " - and they will be giving you further instructions." She paused, giving one last brief glance at everyone in the room, before settling her two blue eyes on Hermione. "Yes, Hermione Granger?"  
  
Lowering her arm at being addressed, she gulped softly. "I ... I was just wondering, why we were selected for this?" she asked, her voice rather raspy and quiet compared to the other journalists', who had seemed quite confident.  
  
"No ... Hermione, you're wondering why _you _were selected for this task, weren't you?" Shirley asked kindly. When Hermione nodded, Shirley smiled and continued. "Each one of you has an amazing talent. Almost every single witch or wizard can pick up a piece of parchment and write with a quill - but each of you assembled here has a talent with that. You are able to write down words with enthusiasm and thought, able to grasp the reader's imagination, giving them full detail about a topic, but writing it with such determination that it it's able to be of interest to everyone. Hermione, I've seen your work. You write so well about such a _boring_ subject now that You-Know-Who is gone, and I personally feel that your mind would be much better suited with a different topic, to see how far your excellency in journalism can go."  
  
"I, uh ... see," Hermione said shortly.  
  
Shirley gave one last, encouraging smile before turning towards the others. "No other questions?" she asked, with a final look around to see if there were any arms up in the air. "Good. Now, if you'll all kindly stand towards the back of the room, I'll call each one of you up to assign your new positions." Shifting back so she could stand up fully, Hermione gulped at the prospect of being called up and being 'assigned'. She almost felt as though she was back at Hogwarts, even though she had no memory of standing at the back of a classroom and waiting for a professor to assign something. Once she was settled at the back of the room and felt Christian's shaking arms next to hers, she had one last thought of how terrified and nervous Christian might be when she looked towards the front of the room.  
  
Hermione suddenly noticed that Shirley had taken out some portfolios, and started stacking them up in a pile. Hermione shifted nervously, not sure whether to put her arms to her side as a professional, or whether to cross them. Eventually she just decided to have them to her sides as a professional, since if she crossed them she'd probably knock Christian out with one of her elbows. Keeping her gaze on Shirley and her stack of portfolios, she hoped that she wasn't the last or first person called, since that was usually embarrassing. If you were first, you wouldn't be sure how to behave, and if you were last, it almost felt like you were left out.  
  
Raising her head, Shirley reached for the first portfolio and took a few seconds glance at it before calling out, "Jared Carter." Hermione sighed with relief, noticing that several others also did the same as Jared stumbled forwards, smiling nervously. Shirley smiled encouragingly at him, as though beckoning him to come forward, and when he stood in front of her, she beckoned for him to take a seat. Hermione made sure to keep that in mind. Watching with interest, she noticed that she opened the portfolio in front of them both and she addressed certain points in whispers. Hermione noticed Jared's eyes widen with shock, apparently not expecting this sort of new position, but after a while, he looked delighted. He took the portfolio, gave a thankful nod, then stood up after a minute and a half of conversation.  
  
As Jared left the room, Shirley reached for a second portfolio, and with another few seconds glance at it, she then called out, "Lorelai Sucha." An Asian woman in her early twenties who had not asked a question stepped forward, straightening her robes slightly as she walked, her hands trembling ever so slightly. Lorelai positioned herself in the same chair, and when a minute went by and Lorelai had her portfolio firmly grasped in her left hand, she too left the room.  
  
Picking up the third portfolio and looking at it, the next name called out made Hermione gulp, "Hermione Granger." She gave an encouraging nod to Christian, who looked as though he was about to faint, and approached the desk where Shirley sat, making sure to sit down in the chair casually. Shirley opened the portfolio in front of them, and Hermione caught the glance of the word 'interview' before Shirley covered the page with her hand.  
  
"Hermione, I just need you to know that you have my full confidence," Shirley told her. "I know you've only worked here a short time, but you've shown outstanding effort, and you haven't been absent once, which shows me you're both determined to do well and you also love your job." Hermione nodded softly, wishing Shirley would get to the point.  
  
"Now, this new position may call for some extra effort from you, which I hope you're willing to give," Shirley continued. "You won't _just_ be writing and having the basic ideas of reports given to you in portfolios - you will have to be the _interviewer_ -" at this, Hermione remembered the word she glanced at, " - and sometimes take on the role of being a friend."  
  
"A friend?" Hermione interrupted. "What do you-?"  
  
"Please, let me explain," Shirley said, her hand held out to stop her from continuing. She finally uncovered her hand from the page and as Hermione looked down at the portfolio she let out a gasp. "You will be working on the entertainment floor, in the Quidditch department. In a month and a half they will be running a full section on the best of the best in each Quidditch position, and you and another already experienced reporter will be taking this into hand. I do not know everything, but I do know that you will have to interview at least two Quidditch players, and basically hang around them for a month or so, in the last month before the finals in the European Quidditch Cup. The interview will be shown, as well as a biography, which is why you _need_ to befriend these Quidditch players. Your new 'boss', Eric, will have more information for you. You will meet with him after your lunch break."  
  
Hermione didn't know what to say. She struggled to say either a 'thank you' or ask a question or something, but it only came out in squeaks. Hermione was no Quidditch fanatic. Sure, she watched Harry and Ron play on the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, and she would always watch whenever the Weasleys and Harry would play in the backyard of the Burrow, but as to all the tactics and everything that revolved around Quidditch, she knew _nothing_. Before she could manage to speak, Shirley had already pressed the now closed portfolio into Hermione's hand, with a small whisper of, 'Good luck', which meant that their little conversation was over.  
  
Somehow managing to stand up despite her extreme shock, Hermione crossed over to the door, twisting the doorknob and slowly walking out. She could see the other employees that had just gotten the promotion having a few Butterbeers and carefully inspecting their portfolios, although doubting what was written in it. The sound of the door clicking shut behind her alarmed her a bit, and she clutched onto her chest in surprise. She would no longer be in Agnes' and Clara's department anymore. She would be working for the _Quidditch_ department, something she barely knew anything about since Harry and Ron hadn't decided to play Quidditch professionally. She would be in a department with barely anyone she _knew_, and they would all be counting on her to write articles about something she didn't have expertise on. The Ministry of Magic articles were no hassle. But this ... interviewing players ... asking them professional Quidditch questions - was just bizarre!  
  
Hearing another click of the door as it was about to open, Hermione moved herself out of the way to see Christian walking through, his face awfully white. "S-s-s-she wants m-m-m-me to work o-o-on the editing staff, working in looking o-o-over the articles," he stuttered out, looking astonishingly at his portfolio. Hermione's jaw dropped. It was an excellent opportunity, and although Christian's social skills were quite poor, he had a knack for writing.  
  
"Congratulations," Hermione said to him with a great smile. He didn't smile in return, not even weakly; more colour just flushed out of his face and his eyes widened in shock. He seemed to be the only one who wasn't a little pleased or interested in their promotion; he seemed to be frightened, unwilling to take a risk and try something new. Hermione almost felt sorry for him if it wasn't for the fact that she was somewhat jealous of his promotion. Editor-in-chief. Hermione knew that after eleven years of working at _The Daily Prophet_ as Christian had, it was unlikely that he would see himself in any other position besides the one that he had held for the past decade.  
  
In what seemed like no time at all, the strike of twelve on the large clock near the elevator signaled that it was time for everyone's lunch break. Hermione, still grasping the portfolio firmly in her hands, was soon greeted by Clara and Agnes, with excited looks on their faces. How was Hermione supposed to break it to them that she would rarely see them anymore? It's not that they could see each other that much while on duty writing articles anyways, but that grim satisfaction of sending each other Owls every ten minutes, as well as the group projects that they were assigned at least twice a month meant something to Hermione, and she knew that it meant something to Clara and Agnes as well. And now, Hermione was supposed to tell them, somehow, that she was no longer going to be on this floor for at least the next two months. "_At least two months,_" Hermione thought, wondering why she stated at least. "_Then again, I could actually like this Quidditch position,"_ she reminded herself. But with no more time for thought, Agnes smiled widely and was standing in front of Hermione.  
  
"Little Miss Granger!" Agnes teased jokingly. "How did things go in there? Did you get a little promotion? Maybe a little raise, huh? If so, you know you have to treat us tonight, since you can afford it!"  
  
Although Hermione managed a little giggle, she gulped rather uneasily at the prospect of trying to reveal the truth. How was she supposed to 'treat' them, while meanwhile telling them how she would no longer be working with them. In the same, building yes, but it would be different. Most likely they would have the usual jealous spats that they had whenever Hermione received something (from as minor as a 'job well done' from Shirley to a fabulous quill from her parents). Eventually, feeling there was a long enough pause, she managed a feeble, "Yes, of course. I'll ... reveal everything tonight, I promise, as a little surprise."  
  
Agnes eyed her suspiciously. "You haven't been sacked, have you? I mean, usually when people do get fired, they like to wait 'til later in the night so they don't have a nervous breakdown or anything like that, but man, firing you and Christian Crusoe?! That man is a _genius_!" she exclaimed. Hermione merely laughed in response, shaking her head and giving an absentminded wave, disregarding her comment of her ability.  
  
"No sacking done at all," Hermione answered. She quickly put the portfolio behind her back, so that their suspicious eyes wouldn't find their way on the contents of the portfolio; she wasn't ready to reveal what was inside, at least not until that night. "But I have to go somewhere after the lunch break, Shirley's request, so if we can hurry up and go to _The Leaky Cauldron_ to eat, I'd be most delighted!"  
  
The two eventually agreed and stopped pestering her, and Hermione quickly ran over to her cubicle, hiding the portfolio from view and quickly grabbing a jacket as the light spring weather called for it with the gusting winds. As they walked towards _The Leaky Cauldron_ after a trip down the elevator and exiting the building of _The Daily Prophet_, Agnes and Clara chatted animatedly, while Hermione remained silent, constantly in thought. She knew that Harry and Ron would simply be delighted, and would request autographs from all their favourite players, but she was sure that Agnes and Clara would be less than pleased. Happy at first, as the initial announcement and shock would be revealed, but soon it would sink in that it meant less time for conversation, as Hermione wouldn't be in the building of _The Daily Prophet_ as much.  
  
"Hermione?" Clara asked, calling her to attention. "Sickle for your thoughts?"  
  
"Oh my thoughts are _much more worth_ than a sickle," Hermione answered, a small smile on her face, although it felt like a mask rather than an actual action. "Don't worry -- with time, I'll tell you how I'm _truly_ feeling."  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
**Author's Note: **A little bit of a poor ending, but I extended it so I hope it's quite better than my original copy of it. Thanks so much for the reviews - I never expected it to be 'great' and 'perfect', and I hope that the second chapter gives you some satisfaction as well, although I'm afraid that I will have to reread the _Harry Potter_ series for the ... counts ... fourteenth time now so I can remember spells and rules and regulations of Quidditch and whatnot. lol Anyhoo, sorry for the lack of updates, and I will update soon.!  
  
Great thanks to AShErsOfeD, Lid'l Rogue, Amy, Alazne, Befuzzled, Princess of Darkness6, jods-luvs-draco, ouchie for reviewing! It took me over err ... .... a lot of months to update it, but I have every intention of continuing this as well as some other fics, so you can expect updates in this one, that's for sure!  
  
Stay tuned for chapter three, and **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**


	3. An Old Friend

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews! Really appreciative of them, that's for sure! This chapter will be fairly long as it's introducing several new (and important) characters, so bare with me!  
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters or the settings. This magical world is property of J.K. Rowling, with her incredible mind. I just own the plot!  
  
**Chapter Three - An Old Friend  
_  
_**_"Don't turn back, now that we're here  
People always say, life is full of choices  
No one ever mentions fear!  
Or how a road can seem so long,  
How the world can seem so vast,  
Courage see me through, heart I'm trusting you"_  
- "Journey to the Past" by Aaliyah  
  
Hermione felt rather ill and incredibly full. Agnes and Clara, completely oblivious to her pleas that she wasn't hungry or thirsty, bought her a grand meal with croissants and pancakes as well as a few Butterbeers. "I have ... to meet with someone after lunch," she told her friends mysteriously as she held the mug of Butterbeer in her right hand absentmindedly. Agnes and Clara, who had decided to have a tad bit of alcohol in their own Butterbeers (to which Hermione kindly denied), merely giggled in response, barely being able to formulate a proper sentence.  
  
"Of course, love," Agnes merely replied, as Tom walked by reminded them that they were to return to work soon and should pay for their bill.  
"Wouldn't think otherwise!" Clara added in, hiccupping slightly.  
  
It was with a disapproving look on her face that Hermione reminded them that they would have to return to work soon, and judging by their state of drunkenness, Shirley would most definitely not be impressed. They ignored this however and paid their bill (leaving much more of a tip than need necessary), and heaved Hermione up, an action which caused her to feel incredibly nauseous. They stumbled out of The Leaky Cauldron, not realizing that several witches and wizards around them were gasping in disgust, and Hermione took her wand out, lazily brushing in past the bricks that would once again release them into Diagon Alley.  
  
With ten minutes to go before their lunch break ended, Hermione was hesitantly looking forward to her meeting with her new boss. She had only been to the 'entertainment' floor once, and had never even seen Eric before, so she had to admit she was feeling quite nervous. And ... quite unknowledgeable. Here she was to be a top-class Quidditch reporter, and even though her two best friends, Harry and Ron, were completely obsessed with the sport, Hermione couldn't say she shared the same fascination. She could almost visualize a situation, asking some Quidditch player if the had mastered the Wonky Feint. So as a light-bulb went off in her brilliant mind, with Agnes and Clara stumbling beside her, Hermione abruptly came to a halt.  
  
"Oh dear!" she gasped suddenly, giving an anxious look towards Agnes and Clara. "I forgot my glasses! You guys go on ahead, I'll catch up later!" Without a word from her two friends, she quickly wheeled around and began to head in the direction of The Leaky Cauldron, leaving Agnes and Clara in their drunken trance.  
  
"Since when does our Hermow-ninny own glasses?" Clara asked curiously, waving farewell to Hermione as she brushed past.  
"Perhaps they're - (hic) - invisible specs!" Agnes replied, a slight cackle in her voice. With that, the two drunken witches wandered on.  
  
Hiding behind a display of owl in their respectable cages, Hermione nervously bit her bottom lip as she watched Clara and Agnes with their tragic attempt to walk along the winding path to the Daily Prophet building. Once her friends were out of sight, Hermione briskly checked her watch before setting off at a run towards a nearby store -- Flourish & Blotts. As the bell clanked, a signal that she had entered the busy and rather cramped bookstore, she grinned softly as she peered over the spines and covers of numerous books (meanwhile clearly remembering which ones she owned and kept in her flat). She noticed a sign which read "Quidditch-Related Books" and decided it was the best place to look. Running her fingers over the spines of several books she suddenly heard a whisper in her ear. "Looking for something?"  
  
Flinching in fright, Hermione quickly spun around to face the one who had spoken these words. Her eyes immediately focused on an attractive-looking man in his mid-twenties, a wild grin on his face that reached his sparkling but disturbing eyes which seemed to be the colour of deep red that were hidden slightly behind his curly brown hair. "Sorry to have frightened you, Hermione!" the man went on, his voice now returning to a normal volume. "Or should I call you Miss Granger? Or is it Mrs? I'm sorry, Shirley did not tell me too much as of yet! Or maybe I misplaced the file ..." The man trailed off, leaving Hermione with some quite confused thoughts rummaging through her mind.  
  
Deciding to be polite instead of incredibly straight-forward she replied with, "Uh, Hermione is just fine, or _Miss_ Granger if you'd prefer. I'm sorry, but ... who might you be?"  
  
The man raised his eyebrows and had a short look of apology on his face before grinning once more. "Ah, my apologies! I am Eric, Eric Wanston. Your ... new 'boss', I believe! I usually browse around Diagon Alley during my own lunch period, and I thought that I might find you here since you are now to be a reporter and writer for the Quidditch department, am I correct?"  
  
Hermione smiled, relieved that Eric wasn't a stalker-type wizard. "You are correct, Mr Wanston! I was just - uhh - beginning my research." Turning around, she grabbed the book she was eyeing - _Quidditch Through the Ages_. "I read this book when a student attending Hogwarts," she added in, "and it was a great help although I'm afraid not a lot of the information stuck." Immediately she regretted this statement - what if he thought her incapable of being a proper and presentable Quidditch writer?  
  
"Splendid!" Eric exclaimed enthusiastically. "Wonderful; doing research on the first day, well done Her- Miss Granger." He paused for a moment, flashing her yet another one of his grins, then went on. "I was wondering - once if you've finished purchasing that delightful book of course - if you could ... get it started."  
  
"_Excuse_ me?" Hermione inquired, her eyes widened with confusion.  
  
"I mean - your ... _job_ of course," he answered quickly. "I know it's only your first day and in the next few days things will be going much more simpler and easier for you - but today I wanted you to become acquainted with those that you will be writing a report on. It's going to be ... an _intense_ biography about a popular and professional Quidditch player. Jessica Lee - you will be meeting her tomorrow - is concentrating on a beater and a chaser, while you will be focusing on the positions of keeper and seeker. You _do_ know what those are, correct?"  
  
Mentally rolling her eyes, Hermione gave a nod. "I made not be an _expert_ on Quidditch, but I have watched quite a few games!"  
  
"Delightful!" Eric said. "Well, I want you to head to Sarquin Stadium - you just Apparate there, I'm sure it won't be difficult - Puddlemere United are practising there today, and you will be focusing on the keeper who's name is ... oh dear, it all slipped my mind. At least I remember the essential bits, huh?" He let out a rather high laugh for someone with such a low voice, and Hermione was momentarily caught off-guard. "Anyways, just get to know the keeper, introduce yourself, try to set up dates for interviews. Tomorrow, you will be heading to Sarquin Stadium once more at nine in the morning - the Falmouth Falcons are practising and you will get to know their seeker ... well, I've never been good with names. After you set up some more times and dates, head back to the office!"  
  
This flood of information at first startled Hermione as much as the whisper in the ear, but she nodded confidently. Putting her hand in her pocket, she rummaged around for a few seconds before she took out a few sickles and knuts, and giving a smile she told him, "Just a purchase of fourteen sickles and three knuts and I'm on my way to Sarquin Stadium!"  
  
With a final farewell and a few murmurs of good luck to Hermione, new boss twirled around and headed for the exit of Flourish & Blotts. Hermione gave his retreating back a rather quizzical look -- why was he telling her all this during her lunch break? Either way, Hermione was both nervous and keen about being able to go Sarquin Stadium on her first day in a new department. Heading towards the line-up to purchase the book, the queasiness in her stomach momentarily pausing for a moment as she grinned in her disbelief. As several witches and wizards who had already made their purchases and shuffled towards the exit, Hermione made her way closer, dazing off into no spot in particular. A certain tap on her shoulder, however, resulted in a terrified flinch and her feeling of being nauseous returned fully.  
  
Releasing a short and exasperated gasp, Hermione swiftly spun around and came face-to-face with Eric once more, who was clearly out of breath if the signs of him panting loudly and his flushed cheeks meant anything. "Miss - Hermione - just - came - to - give - you - your - reporter - pass -" He handed her a plastic card with a pin which Hermione glanced at for a moment before her new boss continued, " - sorry - for - startling - you - good - luck!" With that, Eric fled just as soon as he came, and Hermione was left with an even more bewildered look set upon her pretty face.  
  
"Find everything you need, miss?"  
  
Giving another startled cry, the brunette witch turned to face the cashier, who was looking at her with the same bewildered look. Trying to regain the ability to breathe, Hermione gave a smile and replied, "I believe so!"  
  
_  
  
CRACK!_ Hermione swayed slightly before managing to keep balance, and lightly sniffed at freshly-cut grass. She stood before the grand entrance of Sarquin Stadium, a Quidditch stadium which was located on the outskirts of London, and appeared to be an abandoned and old office building to the Muggle eye. Looking up with a look of awe on her face, and with her plastic card pinned firmly to her elegant navy blue cloak (a card which read, "Daily Prophet - Hermione Granger - Top Reporter") and _Quidditch Through the Ages_ in her cloak pocket, Hermione cleared her throat slightly and put a delicate strand of slightly bushy brown hair behind her ear before heading inside.  
  
The hallways all curved in different directions - a wide hallway straight in front of her led to the pitch, the two curving hallways on her left led to a locker room and stairs which would lead to the stands, while the two curving hallways on the right served the same purposes. Here, in the main entrance, were a main area to buy snacks, as well as entrances to lavatories. It was a stunning, polished, and sleek stadium, Hermione couldn't help but admit to herself. But the only question was, where was she to go?  
  
Hearing voices which echoed off the walls in her western direction, Hermione decided to follow her hunches and headed for that direction. Soon enough, she saw the door to the locker room open and a slightly chubby man with graying hair exit, whistling slightly and chortling to himself. He held several sickles in his hands, and appeared to be setting a course towards a special wizard-type vending machine but stopped short in his tracks as he came to look upon Hermione. "Ah, beautiful," he said, almost in the air of greeting someone. "Have you lost your way? I'm afraid that training is about to begin, you can't be here."  
  
Feeling her cheeks flushing as she realized that this could become the beginning of an embarrassing situation she quickly stated, "My name is Hermione Granger, I'm a reporter for the Daily Prophet." She tapped her plastic card as she did so, an action which made her recall the days when she was both Prefect and Head Girl and had to wear badges upon her Hogwarts uniform. She felt a pang of sadness as she realized that the good ol' Hogwarts days were over, but knew she had to continue on with her explanation to the man. "I am assigned a task to interview the Puddlemere United's keeper -- really get to know him - or her -- over the next few weeks."  
  
"Oy!" the man suddenly exclaimed, a hint of a Scottish accent evident in his voice. "I knew they were to be sending someone, but I had no idea they were to be sending such a beautiful reporter! I expected all the female reporters to look somewhat like that awful-looking Rita Skeeter - and that's me being _polite_, y'see." He tapped his belly slightly as he laughed at his joke then added in, "The name's Charlie by the way. I'm the manager and part-time coach of Puddlemere United. You'll be wanting Ollie, I assume? I'll go get him for you."  
  
Barely managing to get a word in edgewise as Charlie rambled on, Hermione ended up nodding every so often as the manager spoke. When he spoke up about Ollie, Hermione even nodded _twice_ and replied with, "Yes please, I'd be most obliged if you to get - Ollie - for me." As Charlie retreated back to the locker room, Hermione bit her bottom lip nervously once more. She wasn't sure if this Ollie was kind, if he would be open with her or be nasty and not want to reveal anything about his personal life. Overall, she was mostly bewildered as to why she was put onto a task of such magnitude when she was only put in the position of Quidditch reporter and writer for a certain period of time, but she figured it all had to do with what Shirley could think Hermione could handle. Hermione's thoughts were briefly cut off as she heard Charlie yell out hoarsely.  
  
"Oy, Ollie!"  
  
"Yeah, Charlie?"  
  
Noticing that the voice that replied had an even more clear Scottish accent, Hermione couldn't help but realize that the voice was awfully familiar and stood there, puzzled.  
  
"Reporter is here to meet you for that whole Daily Prophet 'getting to know you' article bit, just thought you should know!"  
  
"It's not Rita Skeeter, is it? That woman is bloody horrid!"  
  
"Nah, don't you worry, it's someone else!"  
  
"It's not some man in his fifties, is it? I don't know if I could get along with someone like that for a few weeks!"  
  
"Why don't you come out here, lad, and find out?"  
  
Turning back to face Hermione, Charlie gave her a brief wink which caused her to smile hesitantly. Hermione was neither Rita Skeeter or a man in his fifties (as far as she was concerned) - so how bad could it possibly be? Deciding she should look like a proper but easy-going reporter she abruptly stopped biting her bottom lip and stood with her arms casually at her sides, a polite but warm smile on her face. As the locker door swung open to reveal Puddlemere United's keeper, Hermione's eyes transfixed themselves onto this keeper's bare chest and nothing else.  
  
"There she is, Wood," Charlie told him, and then added in a very audible whisper, "Ain't she a beauty?"  
  
As the keeper moved closer towards her, Hermione looked around wildly before bringing her eyes to the keeper's face, which was even more handsome, with chocolate brown eyes that had a hint of green and a warm smile. A very warm smile that she could have sworn she had seen before. He was much too handsome. And ... too familiar for words.  
  
"Nice to meet you," Wood greeted, glancing down at her plastic card to fully greet her. But this glance caused his eyes to widen in shock and he looked back up at her and added in a clearly happy but shocked voice, "Hermione Granger?!"  
  
"Hello!" Hermione responded, a blush creeping up onto her cheeks. "Y-you remember me then, Oliver?"  
  
"How could I not?" Oliver replied. "It's great to see you! Ah, those good old days at Hogwarts. You were so brilliant, and - and - that Quidditch match! You had that spell to repel water from Potter's glasses during that one crucial match, and I almost felt as though I would snog you, that's how relieved I was, 'cause I honestly thought that Gryffindor was going to be out of the chances for the Hogwarts Cup and -" He cut himself off, realizing he was rambling and brought his hand to his head, nervously scratching at his coarse and short brown hair. "It's great to see you again, Hermione, and I can't tell you how relieved I am that it's not Rita Skeeter _or_ a man in his fifties that's going to be with me these next few weeks."  
  
"Well, I'm very glad to hear that!" Hermione replied. "I remember at the Quidditch World Cup before my fourth year - you mentioned something about becoming a reserve for Puddlemere United, but I didn't know that it was you I was going to be interviewing!"  
  
"The thought never crossed my mind either, Granger," Oliver told her. "B-but ... you've done well for yourself. Honestly. Well done, being a 'top' employee for Daily Prophet, and all."  
  
"Thanks," Hermione replied, a large hint of sincerity added in to her polite comment. "You've done incredibly well for yourself as well."  
  
"Why do people often run away and scream like a banshee when their eyes come to glance upon the likes of Rita Skeeter?" Charlie suddenly spoke up, completely ignoring their conversation.  
  
Oliver rolled his eyes and gave an apologetic smile towards Hermione, as though Charlie had behaved like this all the time. "Why do they, Charlie?"  
  
"Because they often mistake her for a hag!" Charlie chortled away at his own joke, not realizing that neither Oliver and Hermione had laughed (although both smiled incredibly weakly), and then with an amused sigh told them, "You two get reacquainted! Practice starts in ten minutes, Wood!"  
  
As Charlie spoke this, Hermione's eyes drifted back down to Oliver's bare chest. He was definitely in shape - no doubt about it, he had to have fan-girls (perhaps she could join them?) - but at this point she shook her head softly and scolded herself for thinking such thoughts. It was a professional relationship, one between ... old friends.  
  
"Great to see you again, Hermione," Oliver repeated. "And I'm sorry for Charlie's - err, behaviour - on my part; I'm afraid he's a bit quirky."  
  
"It's great to see you too," Hermione replied. "And no need to apologize - I could easily mistake Rita Skeeter for a hag."  
  
Hermione groaned as she flushed the loo. After catching up on things with Oliver and watching Puddlemere's practise for several minutes before confirming a lunch "date" on Friday, she Apparated to her flat and immediately threw up. "What a great first day," she moaned with some sarcasm, although really the only things she could complain about were the facts that she was ill and that Oliver had put his shirt on when practise had begun.  
  
Leaning her head against the counter, she released a sigh and stripped off her cloak, revealing a thing blue sweater and straight-fitted black pants. Her stomach grumbled rather loudly ("Bloody stomach, sod off," she couldn't help but think to herself) and she exited her spotless restroom to make her way towards an even more spotless kitchen.  
  
Fixing herself a bowl of chicken noodle soup (the spoon stirring absentmindedly in the pot on the stove), Hermione sat herself down on a wooden stool, placing a piece of parchment and a feathered quill on the island in the middle of the kitchen, and prepared to write her first Owl to Shirley on her experience so far. As Crookshanks, her beloved cat, leaped onto the counter, Hermione stroked his fur for a few moments before screwing her eyes up in concentration.  
  
Levitating her soup onto the island, she tapped her quill on the marble top, formulating the right words before she began to write.  
  
_"Greetings, Shirley!  
Hermione Granger here, reporting on my first day; it already feels as though I'm sort of reporter by the way I've begun this Owl to you! Just wanted to say that my first day has gone incredibly well! It felt odd, not being in a cubicle the whole day, and although I felt a sense of loss, I was also quite relieved. I met up with my new boss, Eric Wanston, although oddly enough it was in Flourish & Blotts while I was purchasing a book. It was overall a different means of getting my schedule for the day, but I was able to start right away on my assignment, meeting up with the Keeper that I will be focusing on for the next month and a half. His name was - or should I say is? - Oliver Wood, who used to be a fellow Gryffindor when I was student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I can't say that I've ever seen him with his shirt off nor have I had such a detailed conversation with it was nice to catch up on old times!  
Tomorrow I'm to be meeting with the Seeker of the Falmouth Falcons, and although Mr Wanston didn't inform me of his name, I hope he's as gorgeous as Oliver hope that I can get as acquainted with him as I have with Mr Wood. Overall, just by judging on a few hours in this new position, I feel very grateful that you would entrust me with this task, Shirley, and I'm wholeheartedly looking forward to my second day on the job!  
Sincerely,  
Hermione Granger."  
  
_After reviewing her note for a few minutes, slurping on her soup in pleasure, she realized that she had not mentioned the fact that she had fallen ill to the stomach flu, but knew it'd be best to leave that sort of information out. Pushing her now empty bowl of soup aside, Hermione folded the letter and shoved in gingerly into a beige envelope that she used on official work-related notes. Standing up from her stool, Hermione let out a tiny groan as her stomach grumbled in digestion and in pain. Making her way across the loft-designed flat, Hermione opened up a wide window that had a windowsill designed as a perch and whistled twice in a both low tone and a high tone. A familiar fluttering of wings echoed in Hermione's ears and the sight of the owl she purchased four months ago loomed into view. Hermione had called her Jaune, for she was a dainty hue of yellow and silver.  
  
Hermione petted her softly whilst Jaune nipped her finger affectionately, and the brunette just began to say, "Jaune, I want you to send this letter and that will be --" before three owls suddenly appeared in sight, landing next to Jaune. Gasping in both horror and awe, Hermione exclaimed, "I didn't know you were having a party, Jaune!" before noticing that they all had letters attached to their legs, and one particular owl that she recognized as an official 'Daily Prophet' owl contained two. "Never knew I was _this _popular," Hermione muttered softly to herself. She retrieved all the letters and the owls launched off into the afternoon sky. Flashing a smirk to Jaune, who hooted with glee, Hermione advised her, "Stick around on the perch a bit longer. You're going to have quite a few letters to send in a few minutes once I've finished writing them!"  
  
Heading towards a plump blue couch that was arched in the shape of a half-moon, she leaped onto its comfy cushions and tore apart each envelope delicately, reading its letter in astonishment. Each one contained more or less the same information, _"What's this I hear about you being promoted as a Quidditch report and writer?"_ , although they all contained their own personal comments:  
  
_"YOU BETTER GET US SOME AUTOGRAPHS! Except Ron mentions that he doesn't need one of Krum, he already has his.  
Make sure that we get together sometime soon! Love, Harry and Ron (as he's too lazy to send his own letter)."  
  
"So who's this you had to meet after lunch, hmm? Agnes and I are very interested to know! Probably some Quidditch ... dude ... right? Anyways, congratulations to you! And we can understand if you're far too busy to meet us for dinner tonight - send reply A.S.A.P. to let us know if you will! Love from, Clara and Agnes (as she's too lazy to send her own letter).  
P.S. We are also very ashamed to admit that we shall miss you at our floor. Although we are very pleased that you will be spending less time on the elevator and more time working than we have to! SCORE!"  
  
"Congratulations, Hermione! Your father and I knew that you'd be promoted, and it delights us that it was in such a short time! We're so proud of you! Shirley sent us an owl this morning to notify us, and although your father and I aren't avid readers of the _Daily Prophet _as wizard news doesn't necessarily pertain to us, we are absolutely delighted! Good luck on your future writings, we can't wait to read what you'll write next! Love from, Mum and Dad xoxo (and the 'xoxo' is especially from your father as he's too lazy to add his own personal thoughts, dear.)"  
  
_These three made Hermione beam in joy, glad that she had more or less the support she needed from family and friends. The other one from the _Daily Prophet_ (as the first was from Agnes and Clara) put Hermione in a state of bewilderment, however:_  
  
"Hello, Hermione!  
I heard you are to be co-writing the 'big' feature on Quidditch professionals, eh? Oh, I should introduce myself, shouldn't I? My name's Jessica Lee, I've been working in the Entertainment bit of the _Daily Prophet_, specifically in the Quidditch department, for four years now, and I'm glad that you're on-board as well! I heard that you're quite a rookie when it comes to Quidditch but that you've got a knack for writing so I'm sure it won't be too hard! Err ... I'm sure there was something else I was supposed to mention, but I forget. Um. Oh, yes! I heard that we have something in common - we both have Muggle parents! Well, I've got one anyways. My mum's a witch but my father's a full-blooded .. err .. Muggle. Indeed. Although it's rather odd that he's more obsessed about Quidditch than my mother is. Quite. Anyways, I shall become more acquainted with you tomorrow, eh?  
Sincerely, Jessica Lee."  
  
_Hermione smirked and quickly rushed over to the island in the kitchen, retrieving her quill and scribbling down notes of gratitude as well as a wholehearted excuse to Agnes and Clara that she wouldn't be able to make it for dinner because of her stomach bug. Shoving the envelopes into different envelopes (a Quidditch-related envelope for Harry and Ron, a blue envelope to Agnes and Clara, a pink envelope with white hearts for her parents, and another professional _Daily Prophet_ beige envelope for Jessica), she went over to the wide window once again, attaching all the letters to Jaune before watching her fly off towards the setting sun.  
_  
_Rubbing at her eyes furiously to rid of the tired feeling that was trying to overcome them, Hermione wrapped a snug blanket around her waist, drawing over to the kitchen to clean up the bowl of soup before decided to take an antidote for her stomach bug. _"Ah, the convenience of being a witch,"_ Hermione thought to herself. Going back to her spotless bathroom, Hermione opened the cupboard and quickly found the antidote (as the cupboards were more organized than the vaults in Gringotts), pouring herself a small amount and swallowing it before sighing. She had just received a mild-blowing promotion, her friends and family were in great support of this achievement, she had run into an old acquaintance from Hogwarts and was assigned to write a feature about him, and tomorrow she would meet her second 'feature'. Releasing a sigh, she noticed that she had almost come to the conclusion that she had nothing to do - quite a change on Hermione's part - until she rushed to the bathroom where her cloak was, grabbed _Quidditch Through the Ages_, darted towards her bedroom (the only placed in the entire flat that was unorganized as there were at least twenty books stacked up upon her desk) and collapsed onto her bed, reading the small but enchanting green book twice before falling asleep.  
  
_  
_"Morning, gorgeous!" a familiar voice with a Scottish accent greeted her.  
  
Opening her eyes and blinking them several times to become adjusted to the light that was streaming through the window, Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "Oliver? W-what are you doing in my flat?"  
  
"Shh," the handsome Quidditch player told her. Noting the fact that he had no shirt on and was lying on the covers of her bed, Hermione fell silent but felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. "You look beautiful, Hermione," he complimented.  
  
"I'm afraid you're lying," Hermione murmured softly, trying to ignore how odd the entire situation was. "I've just woken up, I have terrible bedhead when I first wake up. Honestly, can't you see? It's all bushy and bunched up in this one particular spot at the back and --"  
  
"Shh," he told her again. "If you look this beautiful when you first wake up, I'd have to be with you every single minute of every day because I don't think it's possible you could be any more beautiful."  
  
This time, Hermione's entire face flushed with a reddish hue. "Uh - thank you?" she stammered out.  
  
"No, Hermione," Oliver said with a smirk, gazing into her eyes. "Thank _you_." He leaned in, giving her a polite kiss on the cheek, which trailed down to her neck, then down to her shoulder. His lips grazed her elbow, his tongue trailing her wrist, until he began to softly bite her finger.  
  
"Mm, that feels nice," she whispered.  
  
"_Hoot!"_ _  
  
_"Hoot?" Hermione inquired.  
_  
"HOOT!"  
  
_Hermione let out a shriek as her eyes widened in shock - there was no topless Oliver lying on the bed next to her. Jaune, instead, sat on her covers, nipping onto her finger, attempting to wake her up. She drew the covers from her wildly, which caused Jaune to jump into flight, quickly flying over to her desk where she gazed at Hermione in a disapproving way.  
_  
_"Oh gods, what time is it? Have I slept in?" Hermione gasped out, realizing that _Quidditch Through the Ages_ was on the floor and that she was still wearing the clothes she had on yesterday. Reaching out her arm to her bedside table, Hermione put on her watch and cried out in horror as she realized the time - ten to nine.  
  
_"Tomorrow, you will be heading to Sarquin Stadium once more at nine in the morning - the Falmouth Falcons are practising and you will get to know their seeker ... well, I've never been good with names. After you set up some more times and dates, head back to the office!"  
  
_The words that Mr Wanston had spoken echoed in her mind, and she found herself completely unprepared. Ten minutes to get ready to meet the seeker of the Falmouth Falcons? If she had made an impression on Oliver and his manager, Charlie, she knew she had to do the same with the seeker. She dashed towards her walk-in closet, throwing on some clean clothes (a soft pink turtleneck and another pair of blank pants) as well as a creaseless cloak that was of a deep lavender (which contained all the necessities she needed such as a notepad and quill), she then leaped into the bathroom, muttering whatever spells she could remember to rid of the bedhead that was temporarily living on her head. Whipping her wand this way and that, she put on the right hints of make-up to make her appear natural yet beautiful, then fled into the kitchen to quickly make and grab a piece of toast.  
_  
_Final stop - Hermione concentrated on Sarquin Stadium after putting on her shoes, closing her eyes as she focused on the Quidditch stadium, and with a _CRACK!_ she was there.  
_  
_"Oof!" Hermione exclaimed, as she felt the texture of the tile floor beneath her feet. She opened her eyes, expected to see the hallway of the stadium in her sight, but instead saw a deep green sweater which obscured her view. "Excuse me, sir, did not mean to Apparate err ... into you." Her eyes darted up towards the head of the tall man -- and his blond hair, which was slicked back with not a hair out of place, seemed almost too familiar that Hermione felt she would throw up once more.  
  
"Not a problem," the man replied slickly. He was leaning slightly against the wall, but once she had apologized, he had begun to turn. Those cold gray eyes, that slanted smirk. _"Please let this be another dream,"_ Hermione desperately thought. _"Please let this be another dream." _The blonde man gasped in dismay and repulsion. "_Granger_? Is that _really_ you?"  
  
Her hand reached out to her other arm, and using her two forefingers, gave herself a pinch. As she winched in pain and released a tiny 'ow' into the atmosphere, Hermione let out a devastated sigh. _"Not a dream, unfortunately - this is real life,"_ she thought, feeling incredibly nauseous. Bringing her eyes towards the other man she retorted, "Draco Malfoy? Is that really _you_?"  
  
-------------------------  
  
DUN DUN DUN! lol Oh man, major cliffhanger. But at least I didn't keep you guessing as to _who_ the character really is, so err ... cut me some slack? Fairly long chappie, yay! And I couldn't resist the whole Oliver-being-topless-and-then-Hermione-dreams-about-him-being-topless-and-in-her-bed kind of thing, so ... forgive me if it disgusted you. Although OLIVER? TOPLESS? How could that possibly be disgusting? Anyways, chapter four coming shortly!  
  
Thanks to the reviewers!  
**Callie **- Thank you so much for reviewing! I hope chapter three is a bit more satisfying as it introduces the ahem gorgeous men. lol  
**fionger** - You must be proud of me, I updated within a day of your reviewing! And at this rate, I'll probably have a chapter up nearly every single week, as I've gotten quite hooked with writing this one - probably because I have a main outline of what I'm actually going to be doing. Heh heh! Anyways, I'll stop rambling and say - thank you for staying tuned, hope you enjoy this chapter!  
  
Hugs and kisses!  
And please review!_  
  
_


	4. An Old Enemy

**Author's Note:** Whee, after a very successful chapter three (an assumption I made from the positive responses) I'm rather intrigued to write this fourth chapter. It might take rather longer than initially hoped (mainly because of my father having to go to bed early because of work), but I hope it's worth the wait!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters or the settings, save for the ones I've created (felt I should mention that, as I have created quite a few characters and settings in this!). This magical world is property of J.K. Rowling, with her incredible mind. I just own the plot!

* * *

**Chapter Four - An Old Enemy  
_  
_**_"Sometimes I think that  
I'm not any good at all  
Sometimes I wonder why  
I'm even here at all  
But then you assure me  
I'm a little more than useless"_  
- "More Than Useless" by Relient K 

"That's right," Draco replied, in that drawl that Hermione dreaded ever hearing again. Although he looked initially revolted at her being there, now his expression seemed emotionless, that cold glare that haunted her vision constantly during her seven years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "And what exactly are _you_ doing here, Granger?"

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, one that caused strands of her light brown hair to float upwards and drift back slowly to her slightly-tanned skin, obscuring her vision. "If you must know, Malfoy, I'm supposed to be doing a report on the seeker of the Falmouth Falcons. Have you seen him or her anywhere?" Now that Hermione had accepted the fact that she once again met up with someone that she hoped never to see again, she prayed to the gods that the person who she was searching for wouldn't be him. Unfortunately --

"You're looking right at him," the ex-Slytherin answered, cocking a sly eyebrow upwards. He licked his lips softly, his almost luscious tongue seeming to be forked like a snake's. "Like what you see?"

Letting out a disgusted scoff, Hermione let her eyes drift downwards, towards his chest which was covered with a lush green turtleneck until she kept her gaze fixed firmly onto the ground. _'What a day,'_ Hermione thought to herself. Meeting up with Oliver Wood as a keeper was one thing, but _Draco Malfoy_ as a _seeker_ for another? Hermione was an employee for the Daily Prophet, why didn't she ever read who the top players in Quidditch were? _'Mainly because you have no fascination in the sport and you were too focused on politic-related writings,'_ Hermione reminded herself. At this point, as an awkward, almost eerie silence filled up between the two previous Hogwarts students, the brunette witch resorted to biting her bottom lip nervously once again.

"You should leave that lip alone, y'know," Draco suddenly spoke up.

At last, Hermione's gaze drifted upwards towards that too familiar face, his cheekbones set in exactly the right spot, somewhat managing to highlight his incredibly pale face. "Pardon?" she asked, wholeheartedly confused.

"You're gnawing it down with all that biting," he went on, his grey eyes focusing onto her pale but glossed lips. Hermione raised her eyebrows quizzically - was Draco actually showing some inclination of having some sort of normal conversation? "You're probably speechless, aren't you? Didn't expect me to be so incredibly handsome after all these years, am I correct?"

Scoffing again, Hermione softly shook her head. "You haven't changed a bit," she muttered underneath her breath. "If you _must_ know, Malfoy," Hermione repeated, in a more clear tone of voice, "I'm actually biting my lip to prevent myself from throwing up all over you. I'm afraid the sight of you has made me feel quite ill, a feeling that I will dread for the next few weeks."

"Oh, I'm positively sure that you'll grow accustomed to this nauseating feeling whenever you gaze upon me, and soon those feelings will not make you feel ill, but arouse you in ... many ways," Malfoy said smoothly, cocking up an eyebrow softly as though suggesting something. Outstretching his arm, he rested his hand upon the wall, leaning softly against it. "Now, do you have anything important to say, Granger? I've only got a practise I've got to go to that's commencing in three minutes, so I suggest you hurry with whatever you're going to say."

Resorting to a sigh was the only way that Hermione could contain her frustrated groans. His cockiness made her feel incredibly exasperated, and overlooking the fact that he _was_ quite handsome, Hermione could see that his character had not changed at all since their days at Hogwarts. Pulling out a notepad and her favourite feathered quill, Hermione said in a rush, "Would you like to set up a time for the interview so I can get to know you?"

"My, my, my, Granger," Draco gasped out, raising his eyebrows in mock amusement as he clicked his tongue. "Is that a pick-up line? I'm sure it works well on your other interviewees, but I can't say it works magic on me."

"So I can get to know you _for - the - article_," Hermione added, through gritted teeth.

"How about Friday, around noon?" the blonde responded, holding his hand out in front of him as though the sight of his hand was far more attractive than Hermione. This notion simply infuriated Hermione, although she noticed that his grey eyes flickered up and down her body as she casually flipped through her notepad.

"I'm afraid that position has already been filled," Hermione replied. "How about two o'clock?"

"Already been filled?" Draco cried out, amused by her comment. "Already been _filled_? Who could possibly be more important than myself?"

Swallowing her comment of, 'How about any other witch or wizard on the planet - and, oh yeah, let's include any Muggle too', Hermione shortly said, "By a fellow Quidditch player that I also have to interview." Hermione gazed at her watch, an action that caused Malfoy to look quite offended, much to her delight.

Crossing his arms around his rather muscular chest (a detail which Hermione chose not to take into account as she noticed this), he took a few steps forward, leaning in so that his cold breath stung against Hermione's cheek. "Is that so?" he whispered heavily, almost sounding as though he was out of breath. "Enlighten me. Who is this fellow Quidditch player you speak of?"

"I'd rather _not_ enlighten you, Malfoy," Hermione said, her eyelids sliding over her eyes as her glance drifted towards the ground. "Now, does Friday at two o'clock seem alright? Here, at Sarquin Stadium? Or would you rather postpone?" The brunette let out a tiny whimper as she felt a thumb and forefinger coming to rest upon her chin, forcing her head upwards so that her gaze was nearly parallel with the seeker's.

"I'd rather you _look_ at me when you're speaking to me, Granger," Draco said, his face dangerously close to Hermione's. His icy touch frightened Hermione, and although aware that this was the first situation where she was ever in such close proximity with the ex-Slytherin, she did nothing to prevent it and only willed in her mind that his fingers would release her chin. Gulping slightly, a prickling feeling arising in the back of her eyes, she found his grip to be only tighter as she wished him to release her. "Two o'clock sounds just _dandy_." The tips of his nails embedded faint red scratches along her jaw line as his fingers scratched their way away from her. Releasing a tiny, relieved gasp as warmth crept towards her chin once more, she took a step back so that she would no longer be in his reach.

"Pleasure seeing you again, Malfoy," Hermione said, in the enthusiasm that a reporter would be expected to have, although a dull monotone somewhat tainted this statement. "Looking forward to becoming reacquainted this Friday at two o'clock." With a curt nod of the head, Hermione gave a brief smile that showed no emotion before a loud _CRACK!_ echoed throughout the main hallway of the Quidditch stadium and she had Disapparated.

Still gazing at the spot where Hermione had stood, Draco heaved a sigh. "And a pleasure seeing you as well, Hermione. How you've grown," he added, a faint expression of awe mingled with his pale face.

* * *

"A butterbeer I presume, Miss Granger?"

Nodding gratefully at Tom's words, Hermione sat herself down on a stool, snapping her notepad shut and shoving her quill behind her ear which immediately became lost in her mass of slightly bushy brown hair. She propped her chin upon her interlaced hands, the indentations of where Draco's fingers were still evident upon her jawline. Exhaling deeply, she shook her head (which caused the feathers of her quill to lightly hit her face) to rid of the haunting yet "arousing" images of Draco Malfoy, and in complete disbelief of the whirlwind that she was the eyewitness of since being "promoted".

A dull clunk which alerted her of a mug of Butterbeer being set in front of her made her jump slightly in alarm, and with a polite and acknowledging smile to Tom the bartender she polish off the mug in four loud chugs. As the thick yet soothing liquid of the drink eased down her throat, Hermione was left with the strongest desire to Apparate to her apartment and collapse onto her bed. It felt as though it was the only solution to the turmoil she had to behold - coming face-to-face with Draco Malfoy after all these years was not something Hermione expected, nor would it become something she would look back on and think, "Oh, I remember that lovely day, where Draco practically harassed me and I felt absolutely nauseous but that's okay!" Swallowing with some difficulty, Hermione knew she also couldn't give up - showing signs of weakness was not something she would easily succumb to, and she wasn't about to start now.

Heaving herself up, she forced a wave of nausea to cascade down, then dropped a few sickles onto the countertop. Once she had called after Tom with a, "Have a good day!" she went through the standard process of entering Daily Prophet, and tried to summon up a positive attitude that she severely lacked at the moment. Stumbling over her feet, she made contact with an elder witch who merely sniffed at Hermione's feeble apology, and she only gave a half-hearted greeting to Fred and George as she passed them outside of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Once she went through the grueling process of announcing her name to the secretary when she had miraculously made it into the Daily Prophet in her state, she made her way to the elevator, caught between a crowd of several other witches and wizards. Shuffling towards the back of the elevator, she was almost terrified that someone may not have pressed the button to reach the second floor (where she would be working for the next several weeks), but realized this was a very foolish thought, as a little more than half of the reporters of the Daily Prophet worked on that floor.

"Hermione? Hermione Granger?" a somewhat excited voice asked.

Looking around bewildered, Hermione half-expected the faces of Agnes or Clara to come into view, but instead a young woman with long black hair that brushed slightly past her shoulders and wide, almond-shaped eyes greeted her, a small smile on her tanned face. "Jessica, Jessica Lee," the girl greeted, extending a hand to welcome a handshake. As Hermione smiled in response, she followed suit and extended her hair and once they embraced in a friendly handshake, she looked down upon their hands, seeing an eye-popping silver ring which was almost diamond-shaped, an 'S' in the middle of the diamond. Jessica giggled as she saw Hermione notice this. "Sorry, people ask about that all the time, it's --"

"Superman," Hermione replied simply, nodding in acknowledgment of this ring. "I see it on the telly all the time when I visit my parents."

"Yeah, I'm a bit obsessed, I have to say," Jessica admitted, though no traces of a blush followed this statement.

"More than obsessed," a voice said behind her. "She has a _shrine_ devoted to this Superman in her cubicle. I mean, _really_, he's not as super as a wizard, is he? Even if those tights _do_ manage to show him off well."

"Hm, maybe you're right!" Jessica suddenly exclaimed, quickly followed by, "Shut up, will you, Terrance?"

Hermione peered over Jessica's shoulder and saw a blonde-haired man with hair slightly drooping past his chin, giving Hermione a wink. "My name's Terrance, how do you do -- Hermione, is it?"

Nodding, the sudden halt of the lift began a shuffle onto the second floor. "So, tell me," Jessica began, pressing Hermione gently on the small of her back, leading her through the crowd of wizards and witches, walking past various cubicles where different groups of people were chatting animatedly amongst themselves. "What was it like meeting the _handsome_ Oliver Wood and the simply yet not-so-simply _gorgeous_ Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes, do tell," Terrance exclaimed, somehow ending up behind Jessica again. Bewildered, Hermione stifled a giggle as she wondered if some sort of magnetic jinx was linked between Jessica and Terrance.

"Uh -- it was -- good?"

"GOOD?!" Jessica gasped out in an appalled tone, a look of utter horror on her face. "Just GOOD?! You've written such _fantastic_ articles - and I've followed your works, mind you - and the only word you can use to summarize meeting the present-day _gods_ of Quidditch is _good_?"

Momentarily taken aback by her speech, Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Well, I'm quite sure you already know that it was much more than _good_," Hermione stated apologetically. "I was more surprised than anything else, considering that one used to be a fellow Gryffindor and the other a ... uh ... fellow student." By the time Hermione had spoken this, both Jessica and Terrance's jaws dropped at alarming rates, inaudible gasps released from each of them. Terrance gave himself a very noticeable pinch as though to inform him he was not indeed dreaming, and Jessica's eyes widened more than Hermione would think possible.

"Are -- you -- kidding?"

Giving a feeble chuckle, Hermione shook her head. "I regret to inform you, that I am not. And I shall give you all the lovely details after I've reached my cubicle? Or perhaps a little later?" she suggested, with a tiny hint of annoyance in her voice. Nodding in agreement, to which Hermione gave a smile of immense relief that they weren't going to pressure her for special details at the moment, they resorted to pushing her back towards the end of the floor, where a large banner hung reading, 'QUIDDITCH DEPARTMENT'. Huge notice-boards hung towards the back, containing the lists of the top ten Quidditch teams in the league as well as the scores of the most recent games. The energy was a great buzz, full of excitement, and Hermione found it to be so contagious that she momentarily forgot about her depressed state which initiated from meeting Draco Malfoy and instead concentrated on putting on a positive attitude for her first day 'in office'.

As Jessica guided her underneath the large banner and into an area that contained fifteen cubicles, she gave a vague tour. "Coffer's office, but he's a bit daft and hopelessly obsessed with the Chudley Cannons, and there's point trying to persuade him otherwise." Hermione grinned, immediately getting the thought that this Coffer, whose head just peeked over the cubicle wall, would make a great new friend for Ron. "Fawcett, she's usually away reporting on games, so her cubicle's quite empty. Terrance's office --" Hermione was alarmed as she saw dozens of blinking images of a grinning Oliver and a smirking Malfoy peering at her as she walked by, "-- my office --" Hermione gave a grin, seeing just how obsessed Jessica was with Superman, as motionless images stared at her, "Darien's office, he's a bit of a flirty bloke, you may want to mind him. If you want to know who the rest are, give me a shout, but here's your office! And - whoa! You've already gotten mail?"

Furrowing her eyebrows in utter confusion, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest as she glanced at the three notes that were posted on her wall,each oneaddressed to Hermione Granger. The cubicle was empty save for the boxes that contained all her possessions from her previous cubicle, and it felt dull and hollow without the pictures and articles hung up. "I guess so!" she exclaimed, deciding not to make a big deal out of it. Proceeding towards the notes, as Jessica and Terrance watched her every move, Hermione decided that casual conversation would be best in order to make acquaintances with her new co-workers. "So, Jess, which Chaser and Beater are you interviewing?"

"Ah, the chaser is Juliet Harpstring from Appleby Arrows, all the boys fawn over her - save for Terrance, here, of course," Jessica added in, nudging Terrance playfully in the side. He let out a playful giggle and Hermione gave a weak smile in response to their mildly nauseating antics. "And the beater is Martin Close from the Montrose Magpies. Quite handsome, though hit in the head with a bit too many bludgers, if you ask _me_."

Nodding, and giving an appreciative smile for Jessica's kindness, Hermione decided to wrap things up so she could busy herself with decorating her cubicle and reading the notes she received and so she asked a final question of, "And what do _you_ do, Terrance?"

Terrance grinned. "Quidditch Photographer."

"A position that _I_ initially wanted, before Terrance got it here," Jessica explained unnecessarily. "Now, we're what you could call a team. I'm the reporter, and he takes the shots."

"And I take _major_ close-ups of the gorgeous ones!"

"Now, anything else you request, Miss Granger? Or shall I be on my way to eat some cheese?" Jessica inquired.

"Uh --" Hermione's attempt at a sentence faltered as she tried to understand her question, and after a few seconds of drifting out of space, Hermione shook her head. "Uh - no, I'm fine, thanks. But thank you for giving me that tour! I'll - see you around, hmm?"

The 'team' nodded simultaneously, and with an odd wave, departed. Giving a content sigh, their departure allowed her to read the notes in peace, though depressing thoughts of having to interview Draco Malfoy for a few weeks crept into her mind now that the distractions of Jessica and Terrance were absent. Seeing that the firsttwo noteswere from the Daily Prophet, Hermione skipped over them knowing she could get to them later and instead grasped onto a golden envelope, that looked almost too fancy for Hermione's tastes. Tearing it open as delicately as she could manage, Hermione gazed down at the calligraphy, written in bronze ink:

"_INVITATION FOR HERMIONE GRANGER  
Agnes DeMontagne, Clara Heartworth, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley request that you meet them for dinner at 7 o'clock at _Chateau Fwooper _in order to fully celebrate your promotion.  
Hope to see you there, and congratulations! Directions and location noted on back.  
Sincerely, _Chateau Fwooper."

A great smile formed on her face, and she felt grateful that she would have friends who would want to celebrate her achievements. With that, she ripped open the first Daily Prophet letter, glimpsing over it carelessly in her state of ecstasy and only digesting the facts that it was from Shirley and that she was thrilled that Hermione was enjoying the job so far and that she couldn't hear what she would be up to in the coming days. Finally, Hermione reached over to the third note, and looked down upon the shortest letter she had ever received.

"_Miss Granger, come to my office as soon as possible.  
Eric Wanston._"

Putting the letter down upon her empty desk (save for the two boxes) and gazing at the four walls surrounding her, with a tiny moan of longing for them to be covered in the precious articles and photographs that were contained in the boxes, Hermione promised her new cubicle that she would get around to decorating as soon as she had her 'meeting' with new boss. Though hesitant, Hermione stepped out into the hallway, only just managing to not trip a man who walked by with several broomsticks in his arms before coming to the humiliating realization that she wasn't sure where Eric's office was. Looking around hopelessly for some sign of where his office may be, she saw (to her great relief) Jessica's head poke out from her cubicle and give a great smile, pointing to a door next to the large notice-board. Giving a wave of thanks, Hermione headed towards that direction, not bothering to form some sort of theory as to how Jessica knew where she wanted to go.

Politely knocking twice on the door, she obediently twisted the doorknob as the same deep voice she had heard yesterday exclaimed, "Come on in!" and stepped into Eric's office. Immediately, she was blinded by the thousands of pictures that were plastered upon the walls - hundreds of articles and dozens upon dozens of official Quidditch team posters - and was feeling slightly intimidated at all the Quidditch players, male and female, gazed at her. "Ah, Miss Granger!" a voice cried out, and Hermione winced slightly in panic, her eyes not yet glancing over the desk where Eric sat at, nor the two chairs that were positioned near them. "Please, take a seat."

After sitting herself down upon a slightly uncomfortable chair and placing her hands on her lap, she kindly declined Eric's offer for tea and an eerie silence filled the room before Eric cleared his throat, glancing at Hermione curiously and giving her a polite if not strange smile. "I guess you've found out by now that you'll be concentrating on the dashing Quidditch players Oliver Wood and Draco Malfoy, hmm?" he asked, almost rhetorically. Once Hermione had given a polite nod and a smile, he decided to continue, clearing his throat once more. "I know that taking on these two tasks will prove to be of a high magnitude, but I was curious if you would be interested, or if you wouldn't mind, writing any other articles besides these --"

"Of course!" Hermione immediately volunteered, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "I-I mean ... yes, I wouldn't mind at all, I'm terribly interested."

"Marvelous!" Eric exclaimed, giving her a brief wink. "Now; I know it's only your second day, so I'm not going to be giving you any _difficult_ work yet. Just wanted to know how things have been going so far, how the change has been, whether you've met any new people."

Trying to progress these subtle questions and work them into a thorough answer she responded with, "Things so far since this promotion have been ... a little hard to handle, only because I'm still in an initial state of shock. But, it's been a good change. Of course, change is always difficult at first and although I had to leave my friends, Agnes and Clara, behind on the fifth floor, I know they understand. And I've definitely met new people! So far, it's only been Jessica and Terrance whom I've become really acquainted with, and --"

"Splendid!" Eric said, interrupting her. "Good job, Hermione. I'm very pleased. Now, a more personal question. What do you think of having a 'casual day' in the office? You know, throw off the robes and seeing what's underneath. What do you think?"

Puzzled as to why Eric would be asking her this, she gave a brief shrug followed by, "Uh, sounds great?"

Rubbing his hands together eagerly as though knowing this would be her reply he told her, "Y'know, just to be able to see that lovely pink turtleneck you have underneath your robes. And ... perhaps ... more?" His voice almost carried a seductive tone, but Hermione easily ignored it with a polite smile and a nod. "Right. Well." Eric nervously cleared his throat again. "Off you go, I suppose! If you could, try to think of some questions you could ask Wood and Malfoy? Try to have a basic set-up for each, but with more ... _personal_ questions to ask?"

"Will do!" Hermione assured him, and just as she was about to stand up, Eric interjected with a wave of his hand.

"Sure you don't want a cup of tea? Or to go out to dinner with me on Saturday?" he asked frantically, his words almost mumbled and terribly high-pitched.

Alarmed, Hermione widened her eyes. "I-I think I'll just go back to work." Deciding to ignore the confusion that was obscuring her vision, she abruptly (and clumsily) stood up from her chair, avoiding Eric's gaze although from the corner of her eye she noticed his face was going the shade of a beet red Bertie Bott Every-Flavoured Bean. "I'll-I'll get back to you on my progress." Quickly turning around and not bothering to see Eric's reaction she finished off politely with, "Have a good day, Mr. Wanston" and twisted the doorknob to exit the room of utter confusion and apprehension.

Shutting the door behind her, Hermione let out an uncomfortable sigh, trying to analyze what had just happened but not really coming up with any solution. _'The top student in Hogwarts, and I can't figure out why my boss just asked me out to dinner,' _she thought miserably to herself. Sulking back to her cubicle, it emptiness and bare walls depressing her, she collapsed into her chair until she realized that another note had floated up before her. Wondering if it was perhaps from Jessica or another co-worker, Hermione opened it in a rush, somewhat flattered to be receiving so much mail.

Though all feelings of flattery vanished once she had read the letter.

_" strike>Dear, Greetings, Hello, /strike> To: Granger,  
Though as dandy as I originally felt about our two o'clock meeting, I feel that this introduction interview of ours must be postponed indefinitely until further notice.  
Perhaps Saturday or Sunday would be a better day, but I already have an engagement on Friday that will preoccupy me all day. Hope you don't mind - not that you have a choice, of course.  
strike>Yours, Sincerely, 'Till Next Time, /strike> From: Draco Malfoy." _

Letting out an exasperated and frustrated groan, she threw the parchment upon her desk, wishing for it to burn, longing for embers to set it on fire. 'Calm down, calm down, he's not worth it,' she attempted to remind herself. Whatever these thoughts were trying to do, it didn't seem to work, for hundreds of reminders of her passionate hatred for Draco Malfoy swallowed her up like the crashing waves of the sea. She paced the tiny cubicle, her teeth gritted, her hands curled into balls of fists as her fingernails began to pierce her skin. How many times had he called her Mudblood? How many times had he teased herself, Harry, and Ron? How many times had he infuriated the trio? How many times had his snide comments gotten the worst out of her? How many --?

"Whoa, who shoved a wand up _your_ arse?"

This familiar voice caught Hermione off-guard and she momentarily paused her pacing of rage as she looked upwards, seeing the comforting face of Agnes peering at her, looking slightly startled at the expression on Hermione's face. "You alright there, 'Mione?" she asked in a friendly manner. "New position upsetting you already? 'Cause, y'know, if it is, you can always return back to our floor! It's getting rather lonely ... even though there's about thirty wizards and witches who work there, but, y'know, it's getting emptier!"

Hermione released a soft laugh before shaking her head. "My apologies," she said sincerely. "It's just - well, look for me, won't you -"

She shoved the note underneath Agnes' nose, who had heard of Hermione's intense dislike for Malfoy in the 'good' old Hogwarts days. "You have to _interview_ that _scum_? And how dare Malfoy write these kind of notes to you, for Skeeter's sake!" Agnes exclaimed, appalled as she threw the note down upon the desk in the same manner that Hermione did when she first read the note. "I mean --"

"Did I just hear the name _Malfoy_?" Jessica's head suddenly whipped itself around the corner, eyes widened with severe curiosity.

Letting out a weak chuckle, and upon Agnes' rather confused glance of who Jessica was, Hermione quickly introduced them. "Agnes, this is Jessica, a fellow co-worker who really likes Superman -"

"Who's Superman?"

"- And, I suppose, also really likes Malfoy. Jessica, this is Agnes. Agnes here is rather obsessed with politics -"

"What's politics? Heh, I'm only _kidding_, of course."

"- And, I suppose, shares the same dislike of Malfoy."

This time, Jessica looked absolutely appalled. Staggering backwards she pointed at Hermione, then immediately realizing how rude that action was, released the pose and lowered her arm. "Y-you don't like Draco? Why couldn't they have given the seeker position to _me_?" she cried, in what one would feel to be an almost hysterical moment if it wasn't for the serious tone that her voice took the next second. "I demand an explanation as to why you have feelings of dislike towards this _god_ of Quidditch later on, alright Granger?"

Taken aback, Hermione merely nodded before Jessica whisked away just as quickly as she came. Noticing that Agnes still had a rather confused look on her face, Hermione merely sighed and said sharply, "Just ... don't ask."

"Wasn't going to!" Agnes told her. "Just popped by onto this _glamorous_ floor to wonder if you got the invitation and whether you accept or decline." Pausing for effect, she let a soft grin slip upon her face before adding, "So, you're coming, right?"

Managing a brief smile despite the twisted and tormented hatred thoughts that were relishing inside Hermione, she gave two quick, curt nods. "Wouldn't think otherwise!"

* * *

"_You're_ a little late! And I thought the great Hermione Granger was _always _punctual!"

Heaving a heavy sigh, Hermione rolled her eyes before giving a great grin. "Oh, shove it, Ron - I'm allowed to be late every once in a while, aren't I? And besides, I showed up the same time that you did!"

The 'gang' of five stood outside Chateau Fwooper, each in his or her best. Hermione couldn't decide between two particular dresses, eventually settling for a deep blue one which had a somewhat scooping neckline and ended just below the knee. It seemed to be a rather posh restaurant, at least judging on one's initial perception of the outside of the building, and Hermione was both impressed and touched at the gratitude of her mates, even if Ron had decided to scold her for being somewhat late.

"I'm sure he just means you look beautiful, Hermione," Harry complimented, giving her a friendly kiss on the cheek as a greeting. "Oh, and I'm sure he also means to say congratulations, but, knowing Ron, he can't really speak for himself most of the time." Ron turned a deep shade of red at that moment, so that one wasn't able to distinguish whether he was simply embarrassed or angry at Harry's comments. Luckily, Harry broke the ice a few seconds later as he added, "I'm only joking, mate!"

Agnes and Clara stood only a few feet away, ogling at Harry and Ron. It was a well-known fact to Hermione that Agnes and Clara both fancied Harry and Ron, who were both, currently, on the 'market' so to speak. Harry and Ginny had just ended a year-long relationship on friendly terms, while Ron had been single for nearly three months now after he called things off with Padma Patil ("She said Wizard Chess was _boring_," Ron said incredulously, in a complete state of disbelief.) Once Hermione had beckoned them over, they exchanged excited greetings, each of them stating that they had never been here before, hoping that the food was good and that they didn't actually serve Fwooper.

"What's a Fwooper?" Ron asked curiously, as they prepared to walk inside to go to their table.

"_Honestly_, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "I do hope you're joking! A Fwooper is an African bird, that can be either yellow, orange, or lime green and although it sings beautifully at first, it's breathtaking song can drive people insane over a lengthier period of time!"

"I'll be sure to get Fred and George one of those for Christmas," Ron muttered to Harry as they walked through glass doors with a gold emblem of a Fwooper embroidered upon them. "To get back at them for what they got me for my birthday."

"Why, what did they get you for your birthday?" Clara asked, her tone of voice slightly higher than usual as she spoke to him.

"These really nice pair of trousers," Ron began. "I put them on, and I thought they looked rather good, until - until - they started shrinking like mad! They could barely fit me, I could hardly breathe, and then I heard all these voices, as if they were coming from _inside_ the trousers, screaming at me, 'You better lose some weight, fatty!' and 'Oh, poor ickle boy, pants can barely fit him!' It was ... terrifying."

While Hermione and Harry attempted to stifle their laughter without much success, Clara put on a sympathetic look to Ron's traumatizing experience while Agnes mocked what Harry did, trying toprevent her laughter.

"_Bonjour_, and welcome to Chateau Fwooper!" a man with a highly noticeable French accent suddenly exclaimed. "Table for five, I imagine?"

Clearing his throat, Harry replied with, "Yes, under the name 'Potter'."

"Mr Pott-ar!" the maitre d'cried out, his eyes immediately scanning the lightning-bolt scar on Harry's forehead. "Vhy, of course. Velcome. Velcome!"

"Let's hope not all the waiters are this mental," Ron murmured out of the corner of his mouth, which resulted in Clara bursting out in laughter as though he had just told the joke of the century.

"Let me show you to your ... seats!" the waiter volunteered, leading the way. The five followed in single file, past the many tables of dining witches and wizards who seemed to be enjoying themselves and having fun experimenting with different delicacies on their plates. The maitre d' led them all the way towards the back of the restaurant, and as he did, Hermione took in the gorgeous scenery - a large water fountain was in the very center of the restaurant; it was a statue of a Fwooper, chiseled carefully in gold, water sprouting out of its open mouth. All around the restaurant, Hermione could see live Fwoopers, perched on tiny benches inside cages.

"Won't their singing drive us insane?" Hermione asked slowly to Clara.

"Ah, _non non non_, Madam Hermione!" the waiter exclaimed, shaking his head. "Zese Fwoopers are specially trained, they vill only sing on _command_, and will stop ven you vish them too. Quite extraordinary, do not you think?"

Chuckling weakly at the man's poor use of English, she merely gave a nod as he ushered them to their seats once they had reached a table with five chairs around it. Nearby, a table was hidden behind a semi-transparent cloth that wrapped itself around the table. "Privacy," the waiter informed her as he noticed her peering at it oddly, before adding to all of them, "Now, vat shall you order?" Gesturing towards the menus as the waiter helped each one of them into their seats, Hermione noticed the waiter blush slightly as he helped Harry into his own seat.

"Wow, everything here sounds great!" Agnes exclaimed, looking at Harry in hopes that he would agree. "I'll have the _pouple_ please, a Caesar salad, as well as a glass of Vilness Wine!"

"What on earth is _pouple_ --?" Ron began, but his question was immediately answered as the order Agnes had placed suddenly appeared on her plate, and to Ron's disgust, beside the Caesar salad and glass of wine was a dead octopus. "Ugh!" he let out a moan of disgust, an action to which Hermione gave a look of disapproval.

Looking down upon his own menu, the boy who lived recited aloud, "_Blanc de poulet_, roasted potatoes, and ... Vilness Wine, too, I suppose!" As the chicken breast and roasted potatoes appeared on his plate, Harry looked around patiently at the rest to wait for them to order before digging in. It seemed the waiter didn't want to wait for them (which was something incredibly ironic, Hermione thought) as he suddenly rushed over to Harry's side, gazing at his scar admiringly.

"Mr Pott-ar," he acknowledged him. "Vould you like me to place your _serviette_ upon your _recouvrement_?"

"Say _what_, mate?" Harry cried out, alarmed. The waiter did not reply, but instead took a golden napkin that had a large Fwooper drawn on it, and placed it tenderly upon Harry's lap, which made both the waiter and Harry blush furiously. "Err ... _merci beaucoup_," Harry thanked him, using the extent of his knowledge of the French language.

"Oh, _anytime_, Mr. Pott-ar," the waiter said, with a tiny bow. "You are velcome."

"Hear that, mate?" Ron said, elbowing Harry slightly in the ribs after Ron had ordered his own meal. "You _are_ velcome, anytime. _Mental_."

Harry shot him a furious look which immediately made Ron shut up, and it was at that point that Hermione could hear a familiar drawl in the distance.

"So glad to get a bit of privacy, y'know?" the voice stated. "So many restaurants are inconsiderate of the fact that my fans simply _fawn_ over me, y'know? Chateau Fwooper definitely knows what it's doing all right. And mmm -- this chicken is absolutely _delicious_."

Disregarding the fact that the voice sounded mysteriously like someone whom Hermione had already spoken with today, she looked back upon her menu before Clara nudged her slightly to get her attention. Figuring that Clara would want some sort of translation of what was on the menu, Hermione began to say, "Ham is _jambon_ in French --" before Clara interrupted her.

"Look, photographers from _Witch Weekly_," she said, pointing out several interviewers and photographers that were creeping up on the hidden table, exchanging mischievous looks. A waiter had already noticed this and rushed over to the employees of _Witch Weekly_.

"_Non_," the waiter told the six photographers, twirling his long mustache around his forefinger as he spoke. "No photographers are velcome, you vill disturb our guests."

As Hermione ordered her meal (pork chops, pasta, and champagne), she kept a sharp ear as to what the waiter was saying, noticing that the photographers were getting rather agitated. Clara quickly ordered her meal (requesting the same thing as Hermione) and they all dug in at once, Ron looking especially hungry as he feasted on some chicken of his own.

"We just want one photograph and we'll leave!" one of the witches cried out, waving her camera as to show what she meant.

"I'm afraid _not_, Mademoiselle," the waiter stated. "You vill have to go."

"Let's just push him out of the way and be done with it!" a wizard conspired, to which the lot of them wholeheartedly agreed with. "Ready?"

Hermione and Clara had stopped eating completely; Ron and Harry continued to dig in to their meals, completely oblivious to what was going on, while Agnes and the waiter/maitre d' who was serving them kept staring at Harry.

"GO!" the photographers cried out. The photographers ran towards the waiter who had halted them, shoving him out of the way ("SACRE BLEU!" the waiter immediately cried out. "MERDE!") and tore off the cloth that was giving privacy towards the table.

"OI! What the bloody hell? I said no photographers!" a frustrated voice cried out.

Hermione tried to look closely at what was going on, as more and more diners around the restaurant peered over in that direction, but the mass of photographers blocked the man from sight, who was clearly fuming. Craning her head this way and that, she thought she saw a glimpse of a brunette before realizing that this particular "brunette" was really a chocolate parfait which swooped in the air, heading towards Agnes' head. Landing in her gorgeous hair, the cream plastered her face, leaving her with a horrified and appalled look on her face.

"CURSE A DUNGBOMB!" Agnes exclaimed, her odd use of cursing causing several witches and wizards to turn her way. Meanwhile, towards the moshpit of photographers, the person who had desired the privacy was now revolting against the intruders, throwing various foods at them with tragic aim.

Shaking furiously, Agnes scooped up a rather large piece of octopus on her fork as their waiter hurriedly whipped out his wand, muttering a spell so that the chocolate parfait immediately vanished, no traces of the chocolate in her hair.

"Mademoiselle, I am _so_ terribly sorry, it's _horrible_, _horrible_," the waiter began to apologize, but his apologies were interrupted as Agnes flung her fork over her shoulder, the octopus flying through the air. As the waiter cried out, "MAD - EM - OIS - ELLE!" the photographers, as if on cue, flung to the sides as the octopus soared towards the table, hitting Draco Malfoy smack dab in the face.

"FOOD FIGHT!" Ron cried out, the squawks of many Fwoopers following Ron's realization. Immediately afterwards, dozens of food items flew, swooped, twirled, flung, soared, pelted, and hit several diners, including the infuriated Draco Malfoy.

"All I wanted was a bit of privacy!" Malfoy exclaimed to the elegant lady who sat beside him, who at the moment was considering to seek refuge underneath their table, and then did so. The _Witch Weekly_ photographers had become frantically excited by the current state of chaos, flashing their cameras madly as they captured the action - Hermione with her head in her hands; Clara trying to enjoy her meal despite the catastrophic situation; Ron with his arm outstretched, about to throw a handful of roasted potatoes towards the general direction of Draco; and Agnes, Harry, and several waiters trying to restrain Ron from doing so.

"Congratulations!" Clara called over to Hermione over the distraught cries of the waiters. "You've got a promotion _and_ you've witnessed a five-start restaurant food fight!"

"SOD OFF!" Draco roared at the photographers, who were snapping away like madmen. "Leave me alone, you bastards!"

It was with this comment that Hermione stood up, without warning, dodging a tiramasu cake thrown by a chubby fellow as she headed towards Draco's table.

He had little time to react (and no time at all to explain anything to the lady he had been dining with) as she pushed the annoying photographers out of the way, crossing over to Draco and grasping onto his hand, thrusting him forwards. Whipping out her wand as Draco followed (probably unwillingly at that), Hermione muttered several spells and the cameras in the photographers' hands vanished, leaving them standing there with aghast expressions on their faces.

Pulling him towards the kitchen, Hermione noticed Harry looking apprehensively at the pair but after she gave him an encouragin smile to inform him everything was alright, Hermione found herself in the kitchen with the man she detested the most.

"Geroff me, Granger!" Draco cried, pulling his hand out of her grasp, which immediately went to his hair to make sure not a strand was out of place.

"Considering I just saved you from a very embarrassing cover picture on _Witch Weekly_, I should think you would show me a bit of _courtesy_, Draco," Hermione said sharply.

"Did you just call me Dr--?"

"If you're not going to thank me and provide me with an in-depth interview _right now_, I'll gladly return the cameras that I 'confiscated' to their rightful owners."

"Er - thank you," Draco said quickly, nearly stammering over his words. "But, an interview--?"

"COME ON!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, grabbing onto his arm again. "Looks like the photographers aren't through with us yet!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Whoot, finally finished after ... a little over two weeks of no updates! Wow, that was ten pages long. Definitely my longest chapter in a _while_, lemme tell you. Thank you so much to everyone who left a review, hope that this one satisfies as well since I finally introduced the simply yet not-so-simply gorgeous Draco! I'll try to get the fifth chapter in as soon as possible, hopefully by Thursday or earlier next week by the ... latest. lol 

**fionger**: Yay, you're proud! Feel rather special, that I do. beams I'll definitely try to keep up the 'fantastic' work you claim I do!

**RosaFinch**: Thank you! I wasn't quite sure if it was a good concept, or if it had been done before, so I'm very appreciative of you saying that! And I'll definitely have a go at reading your fics, and judging by the mass amount of reviews you've received they're incredibly good!

**Yokai Cesia and Chi**: Hmm, I'll keep your liking for Draco/Hermione in mind, and I hope I served that shipping a little bit of justice with this chapter. Whoot, looooove triangle. Tee-hee.

**Callie**: Ha haa, I definitely agree. Tom Felton is reaaaaally hot. As is Sean Biggerstaff. Yummers. Err. I'm not superficial. -coughs- Of course not. And whee, I've updated! Hope you enjoy!

_Review and be lovely, my sweets!  
Err .. yes. And bienevu to Chateau Fwoop-ar!  
Aurevoir! _


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